Waxing Moon
by SilentStardust
Summary: Au! Lily and James never died, Remus Lupin never went to Hogwarts and Peter Pettigrew wasn't a Gryffindor! How does Harry survive in a world where there is no prophecy and Voldemort is well on his way to ruling the world? LEJP, RLSB, Eventual HPSS!


Disclaimer: I don't own HP!

Chapter 1

It was a balmy summer morning in London. The sun was out, the wind was blowing, and thousands of tourists were out and about, exploring the city and countryside. Every shop in every street was bustling, except for a small-dilapidated shop, whose sign simply read 'Closed for Repairs.' Twice a day, on average, a Muggle would pause outside the clothing shop and remark upon the fact that it had been closed for years and was unlikely to ever open to the public.

Unknown to these Muggles, however, was the fact that this was no ordinary shop. In fact, it was the opening to one of the greatest healing institutions in Wizarding Britain, simply called St. Mungos. Around the clock, wizards, witches, and magical creatures would either walk through the shop window, which could only be activated by the presence of a magical being, Floo into the lobby, or travel by Portkey. Apparition was strictly forbidden, due to the unstable magical cores of the patients in the long-lasting spell damage wing.

On this day, St. Mungos was busy as normal. The lobby, filled to overflowing, was decorated in a simple blue and cream, designed to calm both patients and relatives alike. Several dozen chairs stood in the lobby, with wizarding wireless sets placed every few feet. Against the far wall was a medium sized desk with both a long line and a never-ending stack of paperwork. Seated at this desk was the Welcome Witch.

Of indeterminable age, she was dressed in the standard white robes of a Healer, striped with pale peach. Next to her was a small sign, upon which was written the wings of the hospital and their locations.

Truly, the Welcome Witch's purpose was to help those whose mind or body was addled to the point that they weren't able to read the sign. Due to the current situation in the war, this happened often, and the Welcome Witch was at that very moment contemplating filing for overtime.

For those that were of sound mind and body, the hospital wings were remarkably easy to locate. The one that Lily and James Potter, on behalf of their son, Harrison, was eager to visit was no exception.

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As a famous Auror quickly moving up through the ranks, James Potter was both a frequent visitor to both the front page of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. With his easily recognizable Potter hair, traditional since the funding of the Potter line (there were mentions of a curse), sharp features, and hazel eyes, James was a man many people drooled over. Pity he was married.

Lily Potter, author of A Guide to Ancient Charms (a bestseller for months), was considered to be the foremost expert on the subject: she was on equal footing with Filius Flitwick, who had the highest recorded score on the Charms NEWT in two centuries. Incidentally, she'd achieved the same score.

Having graduated from Hogwarts, the most prestigious education institution in Britain, as Head Girl, she was considered one of the brightest witches of the age. Although Muggle born, her intelligence, auburn hair, and striking emerald eyes, had struck a chord with many of the traditional pureblooded families, leaving them to wonder exactly how she would affect the wizarding world in the upcoming years.

Before, and sometimes even after, she had married James, she had received invitations from the young, wealthy lords. The Potter couple, along with their close friend, Sirius Black, another fast rising Auror, were formidable, and represented both the present and future of the wizarding world. It was unfortunate that not everyone believed that.

Lord Voldemort, a dark wizard who hated nothing worse than Muggles, Muggleborns, and blood traitors, controlled a not-so-secret society, in which the participants were known only as Death Eaters.

Using his minions, he terrorized British wizards with a wave of murders and terrorist attacks in order to crush his opponent, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age.

Locked in a classic battle of good vs. evil, these two had been fighting for years, and had no intention to stop any time soon.

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"What time did Siri say he'd be here?" Lily asked as they traipsed up the stairs towards the fourth floor. "As soon as he finishes cleaning up the mess we made," James remarked, grinning as he recalled the raid they'd completed just before the call came from St. Mungos.

As lead Auror of his team, he was supposed to be the last to leave the site in order to ensure that all procedures were followed correctly. He'd slipped out early, however, when Lily had sent a note to let him know that the Healers were waiting for them. James smirked as he recalled Sirius' furious expression when he realized that he would be left to supervise.

Hurrying down the hall, Lily anxiously smoothed her hair and brushed any spare dust off of her robe. James neglected to mention that she was a witch, and did not need to use Muggle methods to ensure that her appearance was neat. He eyed her dark green robes and smiled when he noticed that it was new.

She must have bought it in the last few days; it had the newest style and had a small trim around the edge. He squinted slightly, unable to make out the figure that was moving along the trim. As it raced past her elbow, on the way to the collar, his eyes followed it.

He laughed silently when he realized that it was a snitch racing along the edge. Lily hated riding a broom, a common belief of Muggleborns, but she loved Quidditch. It had been one of the things that finally drew them together.

As they reached the door to the wing that held their son, James frowned as they wondered how well they had managed to deal with the bite. He prayed that the Healers had at least managed to heal part of it.

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Lily bit her lip as she stared at the plain set of wooden doors. Behind them was her son, who was terribly injured.

Although fighting a war, the family had been relatively safe from attack, since they were protected by numerous wards, set up by Albus Dumbledore himself. They'd been fine until last night.

They'd been about to put Harry to bed when the wards had suddenly cracked and fallen. There had been no warning. James had immediately taken up a defensive position, wand at the ready, as he waited for them to make their move.

Lily had taken Harry and hid him with their only house elf, Mipsy, in the nursery. She couldn't have left James alone, and she had known that Mipsy would do everything in her power to protect her son.

The fight had been brutal, intense. Hexes she had thought forgotten had flown to the forefront of her brain, and she had attacked the invaders with a will. There had been three Death Eaters in all, and by the time the last one had been bound and pushed through the Floo to the holding cells in the Ministry of Magic, she was exhausted.

It wasn't until after the battle, as she had sat recovering on the couch, that Lily heard Harry scream. It had been a high-pitched scream of pain, one that she had never heard come out of his mouth. Lily had only spared a moment to give a swift, terrified glance to her husband, before they were both charging up the stairs, wands held tightly in their hands.

James had taken the lead and when he burst through the bedroom door, Lily had not been able to suppress a gasp. For there, leaping out the window had been a werewolf. In her shock, Lily had only been able to stand in the doorway as James picked up their screaming son.

The reason for the screaming was obvious, since she could see the bite on her son's side. It had been so large…

Lily had glanced around the mangled nursery, the full moon shining through the window, and found Mipsy's body in the corner. From the angle of her neck, it had looked as if she had been picked up and thrown violently into the wall.

For Lily, the time it had taken to Floo to St. Mungos and see a Healer was a flurry of blurred movements and slurred time. The next clear memory she had was sitting in the kitchen, hoping that the Healers would send a message soon.

Hoping that her son would survive the night…

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Together, Lily and James entered the closed ward and made their way to the very last door on the left. As they opened it, the door gave a very small creak before finally giving way and opening slightly. The room was dimly lit; only a few torches along the wall giving enough light for the Healers to check on their patients.

Of the five spacious beds in the room, only one was filled. James felt his throat tighten as he gazed at his tiny son, practically surrounded by a mound of blankets. Approvingly, he looked at the high bars surrounding the bed, ensuring that Harry wouldn't accidentally fall out. Above the bed, a magical monitor automatically updated his stats every few moments.

James moved to stand next to the pseudo-crib and watched as his son breathed in the familiar pattern, signifying deep sleep. The head of dark hair was as messy as ever, and his face was the same as before. It was only the whole left side of his chest that was different. Underneath the swathe of bandages, he knew that there was a very large bite mark.

"He looks so peaceful," Lily whispered, her hand reaching down to brush a strand of Harry's hair out of his eyes. "He does," James agreed. Together they stood in silence for some time, unwilling to voice their fears.

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Healer Aurel, a young woman in her early thirties, stood in the doorway of her office, staring at the young couple. In the last few years, You-Know-Who had progressed to using werewolves in his attacks. They were given free reign to maim and kill whomever they wanted. In some cases, they were given a specific order of whom to bite.

From the Potter's description of the attack, the true objective had been their son. It was a shame to see someone so young doomed to a cursed life. He would never find a true niche in wizarding society, due to the biased laws in the Ministry, most of them proposed by that idiot Minister, Cornelius Fudge.

If only the wizarding world could understand that they were only dangerous one day out of the month…They shouldn't be punished for something that was inflicted upon them…

Healer Aurel adjusted her bun, tucking a few blonde strands behind her ears before striding forward towards the couple. At least, she had some good news. "Hello," she said warmly. "It's good to see you back so soon."

James, as she recalled, turned and gave her a wan smile. "We came as soon as we heard that we were allowed to visit. How is he doing?" Aurel caught the eye of the mother, Lily, who was still staring at the child, before continuing.

"He's stabilized. We managed to slow the bleeding, and within a day or so the wound should be well on its way to mending. Unfortunately, he was infected, so we will have to monitor him for the next week to ensure that he was not adversely affected."

James nodded. It was no less than he expected, really. "Now," Healer Aurel began hesitantly. "The first full moon will be rather difficult for such a small child. There has never been someone of his age bitten, so I am not sure as to how the change will affect him. You will want to take the necessary precautions, of course."

"Of course," Lily muttered, her fingertips slowly tracing Harry's soft cheeks. "What are his chances of surviving the first change?" James asked, hazel eyes serious behind is round-rimmed glasses.

Healer Aurel nervously fidgeted with her white robes. "Not very good," she admitted. "Thirty, maybe forty percent chance of survival." She bit her lip at the sadness that flashed on his face. She wondered whether it would be a good idea to give him this new option. She did so hate giving such nice people bad news like this, and her idea could help…

Aurel bit her lip in indecision as the couple looked down at their sleeping child, holding each other's hands tightly. At the sight of the child, she knew that her idea was probably the best option. "There is a chance that if you have a werewolf transform with him, he will have a better chance of survival."

James looked up sharply, eyes narrowed as he contemplated the idea. "And how can I find one, when the majority of the werewolves in Britain have flocked to You-Know-Who's side?" James questioned bitterly.

Healer Aurel breathed in a silent sigh of relief, drew out a small card, and gave it to James. "Here is the address of a scholar in France. As you know, the laws there concerning werewolves are much more relaxed. His name is Remus Lupin, and he graduated from Beauxbatons a few years ago."

James glanced at the card briefly before pinning Aurel with a stern gaze. "How well do you know him?" "Not that well," she admitted. "I met him while I was traveling a few years ago. Such a nice man. He gave me a tour of Paris on one of his days off."

James raised his eyebrow in silent skepticism. "You're recommending him on that alone?" Aurel blushed and fidgeted with the paper in her hand. "Well, not just that. We've been in communication since then, and he's helped the hospital out quite a few times. Plus," she added, her voice lowered to a mere whisper.

"If you're still not sure, you can talk to Albus Dumbledore. Remus has done quite a few freelance projects for him over the past few years." At this unexpected news, James found himself wondering if he should contact this Remus Lupin. If Albus trusted him, then James knew that he would be able to help his son.

"Alright then," he announced. "Once I talk to Albus, I'll contact Mr. Lupin. Thank you for the recommendation." Aurel beamed and then bustled out the door, intent on talking to her best friend, another Healer on the third floor.

She couldn't wait to give her the good news. As she left, James moved next to his wife and hugged her close. They stood and watched over their son, waiting for Sirius to arrive.

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Remus Johan Lupin was considered to be a very renowned scholar, for one so young. Raised in France since he received the bite at age eight, he was fluent in both English and French. His parents, Sophie and Gerard, both respected Healers, had made the decision to move when they had discovered how relaxed the laws regarding werewolves were in France.

Neither of them had wanted to make their son suffer such a dark and gloomy life-denied a normal magical existence and a stable livelihood. It would have been the worst crime they could have committed as parents.

Remus' childhood had been relatively normal, considering he went furry once a month. He'd attended a primary school in a magical community just outside Paris. It had been a relief to live a normal life, and not be afraid to walk down the street in case someone would recognize him as a werewolf.

Now, here he was, a proud graduate of the French institution and on his way to obtaining his mastery in Defense and Potions. For all his pride and his accomplishments, he still felt like he was missing something vital.

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The little tawny owl sitting on his scarred cherry wood desk was adorable. With the oddest eyes he had ever seen, blue of all things, it resembled a stuffed toy. "Aren't you cute?" Remus asked, slightly moving forward to remove the letter attached to its' leg. The owl puffed its' feathers out in offense, and nipped his fingers indignantly.

"Ouch!" Remus sucked his finger briefly and glared at the little beast. "Tetchy aren't you? Your owner must be something else if you react that way." The owl blinked and raised its' tail feathers in a split second warning before depositing a very large present on his desk.

Remus scowled and angrily ran his slender fingers through his brown and blonde hair, the blonde catching the sunlight and making his hair glow. That owl had to be from Britain. Only the British were so rude. He should know.

"Well, now that we've established that you don't like me can I have my letter?" he asked somewhat angrily, shooting the obnoxious owl a nervous glare. The prat of an owl, still adorable by the way, tilted its' head to the side as it considered the request. Finally it acquiesced and hopped to the edge of the desk, carefully extending one clawed foot.

Remus quickly reached out and snatched it, thanking his reflexes when he avoided a painful bite. With a disdainful hoot the owl hopped off the desk and flew out the window, quickly flying out of sight.

Remus gazed out the window for a long moment, wondering what life would have been like in Great Britain. Not fantastic, obviously, as evidenced by the outrageous laws and corrupt Ministry of the British. Sometimes, though, he wondered.

Curiously, Remus tilted his head to the side as his warm amber eyes studied the heavy red parchment. Unbidden, a small smirk appeared as he surveyed the name: Potter. An old bloodline in the British nobility. He was right (yet again). He waited a long moment before deftly opening the letter, carefully breaking the wax seal on the back.

A quick scan of its' contents made his eyes widen in astonishment. It was pretentious to be sure, a common British trait, but it was a plea for help. That a child that young had been bitten…Horrifying, really.

His eyes narrowed in thought, and he slumped back in the chair. They wanted his help for at least the next few months to help the child adjust…And they were willing to pay a very reasonable salary…That was a very positive point, since pursuing his masteries cost more galleons than he was willing to admit.

The money mostly went towards the equipment and ingredients needed. The would also assist him in any way they could to help him obtain his goal during that time…From the news, he knew that James Potter was an auror, directly in the middle of the war that had erupted in Great Britain.

Remus put down the letter and sighed. He couldn't believe that he was actually considering this. Going to Britain of all places? Where wizards would rather give him a silver spoon than say hello? Granted, he wasn't worried about the Ministry, since he was a French citizen and could easily Floo back for the full moon. However, it still was an issue.

"I shouldn't even be thinking of going," he muttered, ignoring the portraits on the walls. They tended to entertain themselves when he had his one-sided conversations, and were known to either sit down and watch or heckle him. Today was the former, and he was glad for it.

Remus read through the letter again. "It sounds like a fantastic opportunity. And the kid is so young…" Remus bit his lip and made his decision. Grabbing parchment and a quill he scratched out a quick reply. With that done, he headed downstairs to send it off with his owl, Archimedes.

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They'd been home for only a few days, and it looked as if things were almost back to normal. Sirius had met them at the hospital shortly after work, and had convinced James to send the letter to that Lupin fellow.

It had taken three days before he had finally sent it, still wary if he was doing the right thing. Now he was still waiting, which he hated, since it gave him a very twitchy feeling.

"Dada!" James turned from the window in his study at the excited shout to watch his son toddle across the room. At a year and a half, he was able to walk and run very well, but sometimes he tended to be a bit clumsy.

"Hey, little guy!" James swept his tiny son into his arms, making sure to tickle him mercilessly once he was settled. Dressed in red and gold footsie pajamas, Harry giggled and writhed in his father's arms. It was a delightful scene, truth be told, and one that had been sorely missed.

Lounging in the shadows of the doorway, Sirius grinned. He'd decided to move in permanently after the incident, even though he'd technically been living with James and Lily since they graduated.

Really they were all a big family, and Sirius aw it as his duty to stick by his brother in all but blood and his family through the coming years. In addition, their house elves served meals that were to die for in his opinion.

Sirius watched as James began to toss Harry into the air, the toddler screaming in delight. He took a moment to scourgify his robes, making sure to vanish every particle of blood and sweat. He really didn't want James to see the bloodstains and worry. The difficulty of the raid today was not something that his friend needed to know about.

"Hi'er, Dada! Hi'er!" James laughed, a hearty laugh that had rarely been heard since the attack. Sirius stepped out of the shadows and took a good look at the room. Really, the place was a mess.

Books littered every surface, completely covering antique furniture that had been in the family for several centuries. Stacked in high precarious towers, they looked as if they would fall over at any minute. Knowing the curiosity of Harry, he knew that they would soon if the toddler got near them.

Sirius waved his hand, casting a silent spell to straighten all of the stacks within the room. It was unfortunate that of the few wandless spells in his arsenal, cleaning charms were the strongest. Sometimes he felt like such a bloody woman.

Another wave of his hand removed the books and papers littering the black carpet and returned them to the proper place. Within seconds, the study was back to its' former glory. Well, almost. Not that it mattered since James hadn't even noticed.

He was now gently holding Harry, who had fallen asleep, a side effect of the medicine he was on. From what the Healers had said, Harry would be exhausted for another week as the medicine slowly healed the bite.

"Wore out pretty quickly, didn't he?" Sirius muttered, moving to stand by his friend and stare at the sleeping child. James gave a small sigh. "If only it was under better circumstances."

"Yeah," he agreed, gently stroking his godson's forehead. "Although," he said quickly, a hint of mirth in his voice. "I bet you would love it if he fell asleep that quickly more often, so you and Lily could have more fun!"

James scowled and punched his friend in the arm. Sirius glared. "That's not fair! I can't hit you back!" James smirked, hazel eyes glinting behind his glasses. "That's the point."

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The large-scale meeting held days after the attack on the Potter family was attended by every member of the Dark Sect, or the Death Eaters, as they were commonly called. Although the wizarding community tended to believe that only a small number followed the Dark Lord, in reality there were not dozens, but hundreds.

And that was only the wizards. Add in the number of magical creatures and the sheer amount of his followers was staggering.

His fortress, for it could be called no less, sat outside a small community in an unplottable county in the northeastern part of Great Britain. It was one of the ten unplottable counties created shortly before the coronation of the first king of England in order to protect the wizarding world from the curiosity and hatred of Muggles.

The fortress, large enough to house his entire following and strong enough to withstand a siege for months, was placed in a small valley and warded with dozens of offensive and defensive spells. Older than even Hogwarts, it was the ancestral seat of the Slytherin family, and the Dark Lord was proud to be the owner of it.

In the Great Hall, decorated tapestries depicting the evolution of the Slytherin line covered the stone walls. Typically, the Great Hall was used as a meeting room, and tonight was no different. At the moment, a large part of the Dark Army was waiting for the meeting to begin.

The lower ranks stood stiffly, waiting for their lord to arrive. The higher ranks, on the other hand, talked quietly to one another near the front of the room. The only ones truly relaxed were those of the Inner Circle, which consisted of those with the most loyalty and power, and those that were leaders of the various sects of the Dark Army.

Fenrir Greyback, leader of the werewolves, was one. With his straggly silver hair, amber eyes, and large frame, Fenrir practically screamed Alpha.

He'd been the leader of the British werewolves for over a decade, and he had discovered that he quite enjoyed his position. When Dumbledore had tried to topple him from power a few years ago, he had promptly led his followers to the Dark Sect.

Fenrir smirked and leaned insolently against one of the tapestries along the walls as he waited for the Dark Lord to make his appearance. Currently, he was ensconced in his private quarters with Snape of all people, discussing the long-term effects of the attack. Particularly in relation to the git's newly acquired position as professor at Hogwarts.

Fenrir felt disgust roll through him at the mere thought of the school, filled with sweetness and laughter. Children were disgusting and useless. The only thing he preferred to do with them was bite or kill the little brats.

He shivered in remembered excitement as he thought of the attack the other day. Dosed with the Wolfsbane Potion, he had managed to bite the toddler while his colleagues distracted his parents. Fenrir was proud to say that it was his youngest ever. Pity he couldn't have killed the parents, or at least bitten them. However, orders were orders.

Absently, Fenrir wondered if the boy would survive the change. If he did, he might have to liberate the boy from his parents in the near future. Young werewolves were notoriously easy to mold.

A sharp sound brought Fenrir out of his wandering thoughts. He turned his head to see the main doors bang open, admitting the Dark Lord in all his glory. As one, the lower ranks sank to their knees as their leader entered, praying that they wouldn't be noticed during the upcoming meeting.

Fenrir, along with the others left standing, stood straight and hardly dared to breath as the Dark Lord strode to a dais at the front of the room and sat in a large, ornate chair. Once seated, he hit the arm of the chair, signaling for his followers to rise. Silence reigned in the hall.

"Tonight will be a celebration of sorts, my loyal followers," he hissed, resplendent in robes of the finest silk, the picture of an aristocrat. Fenrir's eyebrow raised in question. Well, that was unusual. The attack a few days prior had been a minor assignment, easily accomplished.

"What few of you may not know, is that while a series of raids have been ordered over the last week, they were not the main objective." Lucius Malfoy, standing on the Dark Lord's right side, smirked in triumph as he kept his eyes on the gathering.

"Although the weakening of both the Potter and Longbottom families was a boon, as well as the raid on Diagon Alley, they were merely a diversion for a special mission that I assigned to my most loyal followers."

The Dark Lord paused and gave Snape, who had been hovering in the shadows, a significant nod. The git bowed and moved to open a small door set near the dais. With a sharp gesture it was thrown open, and a group of very familiar figures entered the large hall.

Fenrir drew in his breath sharply and growled in discontent. Not only did the Dark Lord have ambitions to conquer Britain, it seemed his goal was eventually total control of Europe. He'd brought the French werewolves into the fold. Fenrir was NOT happy.

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Lily muttered to herself as she checked the guest room, placed next door to the nursery. She'd received the reply from Mr. Lupin this morning and he was expected to arrive by Floo within the hour. The room was decorated in a pale blue with large windows taking up most of the outside wall.

All in all, it was a very airy room, although it was mostly empty at the moment. She'd had to clear out all the extra furniture, including the Muggle sewing machine Petunia had given her for her wedding (Lily had never used it), since Mr. Lupin had written that he'd be bringing the majority of his personal items.

The only piece of furniture that he'd requested be left in the room was the bed, which Lily had to admit was highly uncomfortable. A traditional four-poster with a canopy and heavy curtains, it strongly reminded Lily of the beds at Hogwarts.

"Now, what else am I missing?" she asked the empty room. When her gaze focused on the walls, Lily smiled and waved her wand, summoning a few of her favorite paintings from the attic to hang on the walls. There; that should at least make it more comfortable for their indefinite guest.

Smiling, Lily made her way out of the room to the nursery next door, eager to see if Harry had finally woken up from his afternoon nap. She peeked into the darkened room, but didn't see anything indicating that her son was up and about. From past experience, however, she could bet that he was already awake.

The various toys that were scattered around the room were in the same place they had been this morning, which meant that Harry had, at least, not suddenly decided to levitate his toys. Magically gifted, his displays of controlled wandless magic (unheard of for a child) began when he was eight months old.

It had been right before a family dinner when he'd first levitated the high chair that he absolutely hated to sit in to the ceiling. It had been one of the most memorable experiences of her life. Lily had rarely seen James speechless, and speechless he had been. He'd only been able to stare at their son as he laughed in glee.

Lily smiled fondly at the memory and absently tucked a stray piece of auburn hair behind her ears as she walked over to the crib. Just as she expected, Harry was wide-awake and looking at her with the most innocent look he could muster.

Lily knew that look well. It was remarkably similar to the one James gave her when he knew he was going to be in serious trouble, but hoped that he could get out of it.

"What have you done this time, Harry?" she asked mildly, picking him up and holding him in her arms. It took only a second for Lily to discover exactly what her precocious son had done when she felt the distinct lack of pajamas.

Looking down, Lily discovered that Harry had not only removed his pants, but his nappy as well. And she couldn't see them lying anywhere, so he must have vanished them again. Lily scowled as she set Harry down on the changing table, wandlessly turning the lights on as she grabbed yet another nappy.

"Harry, what am I going to do with you?" Once the nappy was on safely, she deftly secured it with a mild Sticking Charm. "You know you can't keep vanishing your nappies. You have to wear them."

Harry giggled. Lily rolled her eyes and picked him up again. "You are exactly like your father," she told him seriously as she carried him down to the sitting room. "Always have to be in some sort of trouble."

"Who's in trouble?" James asked, messy hair even more wild than usual as he emerged from the kitchen. With a smudge of dirt on one cheek and on his glasses, he looked as if he had gotten into a fight. Lily smirked at the realization that he had just finished the dishes.

"Your son," she said pointedly. "Decided to become a nudist." A broad grin broke out on his husband's face, unintentionally making Lily weak in the knees. Again. "He did, did he?" he asked in delight, taking Harry from Lily.

James hugged the child, who was now attempting to remove his glasses, and kissed him on top of the head before throwing him in the air. Harry squealed in delight as he flew high into the air before being caught once again. This version of flying was their son's favorite game and he loved every minute of it.

Lily smiled and then glanced at the nearby clock, which read You're Almost Late. "James, we need to get ready. Mr. Lupin will be here in a few minutes." James deftly caught Harry and turned to look at his wife. "What now?" Lily rolled her eyes and repeated the message. Honestly, men never seemed to listen.

Immediately, a worried frown appeared on James' face as he remembered their guest. Despite the approval from Albus, as well as various other parties at Beauxbatons and St. Mungos, James was still worried about a stranger taking care of his son.

"Right," he said and made his way to the sitting room with a giggling Harry tucked under one arm like a Quaffle. Boys. Lily mentally sighed. They would never learn.

The sitting room, similar to the rest of the house, had been cleaned vigorously, and while slightly homely with mismatched antique furniture and odd knickknacks, it was a shining example of what Lily could get her husband to do when she used blackmail. Those pictures of him in a dress, a result of an extremely vicious prank, worked perfectly every time.

Lily took a seat on one of the couches, right next to her husband, and absently took Harry from him as she waited nervously. They had only waited five minutes before the Floo activated, the flames turning green and immediately swelling to twice their size. It was a familiar site to the two, but they still couldn't help but stare as a small spinning form came into view, gradually growing as it approached the grate. Harry, especially, was captivated and avidly watched as the flames suddenly grew brighter and their guest stepped through.

James could easily tell that Mr. Lupin had been one of the brightest in his year. He wore the typical coat with patched elbows that most scholars and professors wore with matching pressed slacks and dark shoes.

Although a werewolf, Lupin was slight in stature and carried an air about him that strongly suggested that he was not one to get into a fight, or even express his opinions loudly. With amber eyes, a common trait for most werewolves, dark hair interspersed with blonde highlights, and a gently yet weary face, he almost didn't have the look of a werewolf.

Lily could only wonder how much pain life as a werewolf would be as she looked at their guest and hoped that her son would not experience the same. Hopefully, he would be able to help Harry with the transformations and teach him everything he needed to know. Lily reached forward to shake Mr. Lupin's hand as he finished dusting himself off.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin. I hope your journey was satisfactory." Remus Lupin smiled and shook her hand warmly before reaching over to shake James' as well. "Quite. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long?"

James shook his head, messy hair somehow managing to become even more wild, if that was even possible. "No, you're right on time. As you might have suspected, I'm James and this is my wife, Lily," he said. "And this," he stated somewhat softly. "Is our son, Harry."

Remus took in the calm green eyes of the toddler and the remarkable likeness to his father. Bending down slightly to look him in the eye, he smiled warmly. "Hi, Harry. My name's Remus. Do you want to see the toy I've brought you?" he asked gently.

Harry regarded him silently for a moment and then reached out in an unmistakable gesture. Remus glanced at both parents for permission before he reached over and took Harry from Lily's arms.

"By the way," he said. "You can go ahead and call me Remus." With that, he grabbed his carryall and moved to the door of the sitting room, eager to see his new lodging.

End of Chapter ! Tell me what you think!


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